


wings

by torimiko



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torimiko/pseuds/torimiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the first time. Gabriel is flying all over his kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wings

Wings   
Gabriel flitted around his kitchen like a hummingbird, quickly moving from spot to spot but never landing. He pulled his cast iron skillet out of the cupboard next to the sink then put it on the stove, stopping only long enough to crank the heat to medium high. Then he was off to the refrigerator for eggs, bacon, goat cheese and chives. All of that was piled on the counter as Gabriel pivoted around to reload the coffee machine for 12 cups instead of four before he switched it on. Since it was there, he hit the play button on his iHome dock, filling the kitchen with the dulcet tones of Rick James.

Grabbing his chef's knife, he flew back grab the bacon only to hack the package open as he pranced back to the sizzling skillet. Half the rasher went in to it with a meaty plop. The air filled with the frankly seductive smell of bacon and coffee. Gabriel slid across the linoleum to grab a bowl. Before he came to a stop he was whipping eggs, chives and goat cheese into a frothy soufflé.

This would be the absolute best morning after breakfast Sam Winchester ever had, god damn it. If not, Gabriel would hand in his Iron Chef fan club membership from the Food Network.  
Sam. Sam was upstairs in Gabriel's bed, drooling on his pillow, naked bits rubbing into his Egyptian cotton sheets.

The gangly kid next door had flown back from college all grown up. Gabriel couldn't help feeling completely perverted lusting after him still. Unlike that whole period of time when Sam was between sixteen and eighteen where he harbored Mrs. Robinson fantasies about the boy. _Oh Mr. Novak, I'm nervous. Can you take all of your super gay experience and show me how to suck cock?_

_Why sure, young man. It would be my pleasure. Now do you need me to demonstrate or are you more of a learning while doing type of learner?_

Yeah, that little image had had him coming like a teenager for years. In fact, little Loki, the tricky dicky, twitched with approval at the very memory. Now that he had actually had Sam suck his cock, the fantasy pale next to reality. But at least after Sam went back to Stanford, Gabriel would have the memory to jerk off to instead.   
Fuck. His hands stopped mid wrist flick causing his heart to stutter and stop in his chest. Sam would be going back to Stanford. Stanford was far away. Who knew when he'd see him again or if _this_ would ever happen again. Last night had been the stuff of fantasy. What middle aged guy didn't dream of someone half their age banging down their door begging for sex?

And oh Jesus on a pogo stick, the sex! Gabriel was no wallflower, but last night was the best he'd ever had. Sam was perfect. Sam was Sam so of course he was perfect. But if he never got to kiss Sam again, Gabriel didn't know if he would survive.

"Muffins. I should make muffins," Gabriel muttered to himself as he dropped the thought along with the wisk into the bubbly eggs. He darted off to the pantry over the sink. He was up on his tiptoes trying to contemplate between blueberry and banana when someone cleared their throat behind him.

Gabriel turned around to see Sam standing in the entryway of his kitchen. He stopped, his heart stuttering to a halt in his chest. He honestly thought he would die because he stopped moving. Gabriel felt deliciously exposed in his red boxers and wife beater. Sam had all of his clothes back on, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders hitched up to his ears. He would have looked ready to bolt if his hair wasn't still a disaster. It stuck up in little wings around his ears and forehead.

"Good morning, uh, Mr. Novak," said Sam. A blush crept across his cheeks instantly making him look younger than his twenty-two years.  
Gabriel huffed out a laugh. "Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me."

And he really didn't know if he was talking to Sam or himself. The moment Sam said Mr. Novak Gabe was both repulsed (by his dirty old man self) and totally aroused (by Sam. Period.). Sam's head jerked up, his eyebrows crumpling in confusion.

"Are you okay?" asked Gabriel. "You're not, well having second thoughts? Are you ready to tell your oaf of a brother I took advantage of you so he'll fly over here and make me wear my ass like a hat?"

Gabriel watched transfixed as Sam swallowed making his Adam's apple bob in his long throat. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one who, ah, took advantage of you. I mean, I didn't even ask before I shoved my tongue down your throat."

Gabriel's heart restarted in its cage, sending him tripping across the room until he was slamming Sam against the wall to grip the back of his winged head and pull him down. Once he could reach, he licked his tongue along the crease of Sam's lips until the boy opened his mouth with a groan. Gabriel tasted his toothpaste in Sam's mouth. The thought of Sam using his toothbrush just did it for him. If Sam would just rub up against everything, marking it as his own, Gabriel would die happy.

"Gabe," gasped Sam. "Gabe, I think the bacon's burning."

"Son of a bitch," swore Gabriel. He grabbed the dish towel from the handle of the refrigerator and used it to grip the skillet and throw the whole mess into the sink. Sam turned off the burner and crossed over to Gabriel. Watching Sam try not to smile made him annoyed with himself. "So much for my romantic morning after breakfast."

"How about we just go back upstairs? If you're lucky, I'll buy you lunch." asked Sam with an eyebrow wiggle.

"If you're lucky, you'll be able to still walk!" smirked Gabriel, before flying up the stairs to the bedroom


End file.
